


Separation Anxiety

by caridia



Series: dysfunctional family funtimes [17]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: A very brief fight, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Gen, Lots of anger and very Urie centric, Pressure from the family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 16:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4631550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caridia/pseuds/caridia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>So this is what a choice you cannot turn your back to feels like</i>, he thinks idly.</p><p>Or: In which Urie’s play-pretend life crumbles, there are some fancy parties, and Akira saves the day once more</p>
            </blockquote>





	Separation Anxiety

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of a three chapter long series focused on Urie. I am planning to do similar fics for all the kids, but this one's first out. 
> 
> I don' think there is anything warn about, except some pressure from Urie's family, and I guess pent up anger?

Urie Kuki hates how the clock in the dining room ticks. It is some fancy thing his mother bought years ago, and it has a dragging ticking that, when it is otherwise silent in the apartment, grates on his nerves.

Right now, he figures, he has never wanted to burn the unfortunate purchase up as much as today. He doesn’t move from his seat, nor does he tear his eyes from the unyielding gaze of his parents.

When was the last time he saw them both together, side by side? he wonders idly, as he tries to figure out their reasons for calling him here. No, calling sounds too lenient, he decides. They summoned him to this uncomfortable chair, this uncomfortable silence to stare at him with disapproving gazes. He has no idea why, though. They have never cared about what he does, or cared enough in general to actually talk to him longer than a few orders or tell him their decisions.

His mother, the all beautiful and ice cold Urie Sayako, is the first one to open her mouth and break the silence. He wishes she hadn’t.

“Kuki, dear. Your father and I think it is time for you to give up your little game.”

He stares at her blankly for a second, not quite comprehending what she is saying. When the message sinks in, though, he stiffens further in the chair. Of course they knew, he realizes, but they never said anything about it, and he hadn’t thought--. It’s been years since he started hanging out with the others. Years since his daily routine, more often than not, consisted of going home. Not his home, he knows. But, he figures, Sasaki Haise's makeshift home is much better home than a too large, too empty apartment.

_Why now? Why (the fuck) have they decided to talk about it now?_

“Why?” is all that he manages to choke out.

His father’s eyes get tense as he looks at him. “You are an Urie, son. You cannot continue pretending you are not.”

“Your father is right. Elementary school is one thing. Middle school was unfortunate, but it was tolerated since you still had acceptable grades,” his mother glances at his father’s stony face. Her hands fidgets in her lap. “But we cannot take any risks.”

“I’m the top of my class.”

“Yes, dear.” Her expression twists into something he guesses is a smile, but doesn’t quite translate as such. It looks more as if someone told her that her flower arrangement needed work.

“Then what’s the issue? If I am the best, then I am the best.”

“You’re not the top of your grade,” his father said. Urie Takahiro never raises his voice, never makes it harsher than it needs to be. That is not something someone with his status does. Despite the calm nature of his father’s voice, the words ring in Urie’s ears. _Not the top of your grade._ Of course. He isn’t the best, not yet.

“I can get there, no problem.”

“Oh, there won’t be a problem alright. We have already arranged for tutoring, and additional after school classes.” Sayako’s grimace smoothens out, becomes a soft and gentle smile. “Of course, we aren’t forcing you to live up to our esteemed name,” his mother continues after yet another brief glance at his father. “You have a choice.”

* * *

 

When he finds himself sitting amidst the controlled chaos of the Sasaki household the following day, the words are still spinning in his head.

_You have a choice._

Next to him, Yonebayashi is showing Arima how to shoot the zombies. It involves a lot of excited pointing, and Shirazu doesn’t keep his fucking mouth shut and joins in on the noise. Not even his best headphones can keep the noise out. Urie would’ve left by now, but Mutsuki is still capable of concentrating in this mess so he needs to do it too.

_You’re not the top of your grade._

Yonebayashi jerks with the control, hitting Urie straight in the face. He pushes her off the couch in retaliation, and Sasaki is quick to scold him for it, despite not even seeing it. He is in the kitchen stress baking, or whatever. He cannot possibly have seen it.

“Don’t push your sister,” Mutsuki and Sasaki both say, practically at the same time.

“She’s not my sister,” he mutters, and Shirazu hits him right in the shoulder.

Before Sasaki pulls them apart, Urie has given the idiot some bruises and what might become a black eye. Of course, he is also in pain because what Shirazu lacks in brain power, he got in fucking brute strength.

(Arima spends the entire fight with eyes glued to the screen, trying to figure out a strategy on killing as many zombies as possible. He only moves when the fighting interferes, but only away from the brawl.)

* * *

 

_You have a choice._

The thought keeps him up that very night. His bed at Sasaki’s feels too small, too uncomfortable so he twists and turns as the words echo in his head.

_You have a choice._

With a sigh, he looks at the clock and groans.

02.47 AM.

_You have a choice._

* * *

 

The pressure of making a choice he cannot make is building up within him. Maids avoid him even more than usual, and the arguments with both Mutsuki and Shirazu grow more frequent. He still cannot decide when his sleeplessness hits the sixth day mark, and he find a note from his mother in the black and shiny kitchen.

_We need your decision soon._

Urie throws the note into the garbage.

* * *

 

When he hasn’t slept properly for the eighth day in a row, everything blows up into his face.

It all begins as usual, with Mutsuki sharing his homework with him and Shirazu avoiding his own work. Yonebayashi is locked in her room, recording, and when Urie walks past her room to get to the bathroom, French is heard from inside.

Sasaki is still stress baking, his novel or whatever is not writing itself and he is struggling with words or something. He doesn’t quite care about the reason of the baking spree. There are cookies everywhere, and Urie has long since grown tired of seeing them on the table, or seeing Yonebayashi steal some.

Somewhere, a phone is calling manically but since Sasaki is studiously ignoring it, so is everyone else.

It is an ordinary day, really.

Underneath all that normalcy though, Urie is boiling with stress. His skin feels several sizes too small, he’s itchy all over and there is nowhere to go. Shirazu and Mutsuki’s chatter is going on his nerves, all he wants is silence so he can concentrate on the German translation he is trying to get to make sense. His last quiz didn’t go as well as he had wanted it, only 98%, and he needs to get 100% next time.

He cannot get the words to work properly, to make them stay on the paper and form coherent sentences. They are jumping around, and he groans in frustration and leans back. The pencil falls back on the paper, but continues to roll down and drop on floor. Urie swears under his breath, but he doesn’t bother to get up from his seat to fetch it.

_You have a choice._

He closes his eyes in frustration, trying to collect himself. It doesn’t help much, but he pretends to not hear the others’ quiet laughters and jokes.

“Urie?” Sasaki says somewhere near his right ear, and Urie tenses immediately, his eyes flying open.

“What?” he says, a bit too quickly for his own taste.

“I need some help. If you are not doing your homework, maybe you can help me with something?”

Urie glances at Mutsuki and Shirazu, but they are both hunched over their homework in deep concentration and he feels something break within him.

Afterwards, he cannot say what really triggered the argument. One second Sasaki politely asks him for a favour, and the next Urie is screaming about one thing or another. He cannot even say he knows what he screams about, all he hears is the rush of his blood and _you have a choice_ over and over again.

He only remembers pieces of that evening, really. There is Sasaki trying to calm him down, but only makes it worse. Shirazu who needs to be stopped forcibly from jumping Urie, and Mutsuki looking concerned and vaguely scared.

When it all becomes too much, he grabs his things and leaves. The rage is still boiling within him, and he vaguely realizes that he more or less destroyed his German homework in his haste to get it into his bag. He doesn't care. He wants to destroy more, if he can. Urie feels as if he can rip apart concrete, the buzzing in his head just fuelling his pent up rage.

When he is about to exit the tiny garden, he barely has the time to register Shirazu's presence before he is tackled to the ground.

Shirazu's expression echoes the chaos within Urie, and when Shirazu punches him, Urie is quick to retaliate.

Their fight isn't very drawn-out. It only lasts for as long as it takes for Sasaki to split them apart. Despite how little time they had, they end up both being battered and bruised. It takes both Sasaki and Mutsuki to keep them apart, but it is still only barely.

Urie feels how the rage that has been festering within him for over a week is still there, boiling underneath his skin. Each concerned glance from Sasaki made it worse, because why does it matter that Urie blew up?

He isn't a part of their little fake family. He has a family of his own.

Mutsuki begins to move towards him, perhaps trying to see if there is anything he can do. Urie shoves him off, and grabs his bag and leaves.

He leaves the make-believe family, the middle-class neighborhood and the sickening realization of “I don’t belong here” behind. He probably imagines it, but he hears how Sasaki tells Shirazu "He needs to make his own decisions."

Although he vaguely heads towards the subway, he stops about halfway there. He is breathing hard, from the fighting and screaming, but also from the too fast pace he kept.

The houses here are larger, with equally large fences. Much like his classmates' houses. It is lacking the sense of wealth, though. Upper middle-class, most likely. Urie cannot say he recognizes the neighborhood, though he still has a rather good guess on where he is.

He leans on a fence, catching his breath.

For a second or so, he considers going to his apartment by subway. The idea is quickly discarded, mainly for being incredibly stupid.

Instead, he pulls out his phone and sends a quick message to his mother's personal secretary.

_I made my decision. Send someone to pick me up._

It is reasonably late, but it doesn't surprise him in the least when he receives a reply almost instantaneously.

_I'll send a taxi._

His head hits the fence as he leans back further, but he ignores the pain.

 _So this is what a choice you cannot turn your back to feels like_ , he thinks idly. It’s fine, he’s never belonged in the middle-class anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is left undone.


End file.
